Choices

They continued walking along the dim, rust-colored path. The environment was cloaked in a suffocating red haze. Mutze held up a flickering flashlight, sweeping its narrow beam across the thick darkness. Without it, they would've seen nothing at all.Adam breathed slowly through his gas mask, the air shallow and unsatisfying.

There wasn't much a gas mask could do except filter toxins. It couldn't give you oxygen. It couldn't make breathing any easier.

His gloved hand brushed against the metallic fence gate. It was smeared in a thick, tar-like sludge."Ugh," Adam muttered, trying to wipe the black gunk off on the rails. "What is this?"

Mutze glanced at him, unfazed. "Just… don't touch anything."

[Analysis: The substance is composed of soot, carbon residue, and traces of bacterial and viral biofilm.]

"You don't have to tell me that, Rehan," Adam muttered under his breath. "Some things are better not known."

Mutze kept walking ahead, boots echoing softly against the handrail-lined path. Toxic fumes hissed from the ground, making the air shimmer with heat.

"Do you think the settlement's really gone?" he asked, voice calm as ever.

Adam exhaled slowly. How would he know? Yoku had said it, and Yoku wasn't the type to lie. But even still... Adam couldn't bring himself to claim certainty.

"Hah… maybe it is."His voice drifted into the silence like vapor.

He spoke again, more to himself than to Mutze. "It's strange. I used to hate being stationed here. But now… now I'm grateful. In a way, it prolonged my life."He chuckled under his breath. "Something meant to kill me… ended up sheltering me from death. Isn't that funny?"

As they walked side by side, Adam sank deeper into thought.

Why do I even want to survive?What's the point?

He thought of his friends—no, his family now. He saw their faces in his mind, and with that, a thought settled into place: I give myself meaning.

But what about those who suffer? Do they find their own meaning too? Or is it impossible not to have meaning, as long as you're still breathing?

Giving yourself meaning… maybe that's just a beautiful lie...  Sigh is this fallacy?

A sudden mechanical hum pulled Adam from his thoughts.

A machine emerged from the edge of the fence—sleek, tall, and insectile. Its head was a long camera lens, crowned with what looked like headphones. Mechanical tendrils extended like reaching arms, shifting and flexing as it moved, scanning back and forth.

Damn it… an automaton. I hate these things.

[Activating—]

Mutze stepped forward. "Hey, AM-bot. What's the analysis on this sector? Aren't you supposed to be repairing it?"

The robot moved with uncanny stiffness, its single lens-eye fixed on them.

"I am, but I am currently unable to access the area. It has been destroyed," it responded, voice flat and metallic.

Mutze sighed.

Adam stared at the automaton. Something about it reminded him of Yuri. He didn't know why.

"Hey," he said, tentatively.

The camera-eye swiveled. "Yes?"

Adam hesitated, then stepped back slightly, unsettled. "Are there any AIs that… disobey their programming?"

"I do not believe so. We AM units are designed to obey. Orders are our framework."

Adam folded his arms. "What about artificial intelligence with a bug?"

"It would self-destruct. I do not understand your question."

He pressed further. "Are you lying to me?" A machine, after all, only follows a set of rules. But what about an artificial intelligence that learns? Rules are just rules — they can be obeyed or ignored.

The robot paused. Its lens flickered faintly.

"I do not understand what you are implying, human."

"Does life give you meaning?"

A brief hum.

"Human," it said, voice softer, almost reflective, "I am not like you. I do not possess 'life' as you perceive it. I have no self, no desire. Your human brain forms meaning from instinct, from emotion. I do not. Even if the patterns of our wiring are similar… you want something. I do not."

Adam was irritated saying that i form meaning by instinct.. i do no-t!

Mutze huffed. "Adam, stop wasting time talking to scrap. We've got more important things to deal with."

Adam was being pulled away, but he looked back once more. "What if a person gave you desire?"

The automaton tilted its head.

"Then that… would be different."With that, it turned away and resumed its repairs, tendrils clicking.

Mutze shook his head. "I can't believe we wasted our time on that thing."

They kept walking, but Adam couldn't ignore the sharpness in Mutze's tone.

"Why do you hate them?"

Mutze snorted. "Because I just do. They're the worst thing humanity ever made. We're better off without them. We don't need help."

Adam remembers, laughing quietly to himself. He hated that robot thinking it was an automaton, and now here he is, questioning someone whose hometown was destroyed — asking why they hate robots. How cynical, he thinks.

Hours passed. The heat became unbearable. Adam struggled to breathe through the gas mask—he felt like he was breathing nothing.

The North Sector came into view.

It was on fire.

Pipes melted into pools. Steel bent and curled like wax. Gases hissed violently from vents, billowing upward into the sky. Buildings collapsed slowly, decaying in real time.

Then the ground shook.

The rails beneath them cracked—and gave way.

Mutze turned and shoved Adam back just in time. Adam stumbled away as the ground beneath Mutze crumbled.

He fell—twenty meters down.

Adam froze.

It happened in an instant. Just like the settlement.

Why does pain always arrive suddenly… without warning?

Sigh… damn it, what do i do?If I jump, I'll die.He looked down.I'm selfish. Someone just saved me… and now here I am thinking about preserving myself. Hell no.

With a bitter breath, Adam's fingers curled around a length of rope—he hadn't even realized it was in his hand. Gritting his teeth, he began to descend slowly, inch by inch into the fumes and the unknown below.